The Yellow Ones
by sohhkb
Summary: Scarlett copes with the loss of Rhett. Not a chronological story.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, above you!  
Waves about to...  
Verified on here  
Waves about to...  
Terrified, aren't you?

A major repair is underway  
Where am I?  
A major repair is underway  
Where am I?  
Require a blanket of silence  
Where am I?

_The Yellow Ones, _Pinback

The hot water turned her milky skin red. The steam made the tendrils of her black hair curl and stick to her face. Taking long, leisurely baths was her new tradition. There was nothing else to do, besides.

Scarlett lowered herself in the burning water, and her thoughts cleared.

-

She was not sure if it was the alcohol talking, but her wedding ring seemed to sparkle much more brightly under the candlelight and reflection of the water. Submerged on her stomach, she watched the diamonds sparkle as her dark hair cascaded and swirled around her fingers. She did not care that suddenly the water was fiercely cold, and even under the water her teeth were chattering. It was such a beautiful feeling to just float, literally and figuratively.

But her reverie was so suddenly shattered that she hardly had time to understand what had happened. A violent tug on her hair sent her spluttering up from the water, and iron-like fingers clawed at her shoulders, pulling her bodily out of the tub. She shrieked, sucking water into her lungs. And then she was sprawled, coughing on the cold marble floor.

"You're alive," said Rhett raggedly, rubbing her cheek harshly with his shaking palm. His suit jacket was soaking from the elbows up, his hair was unkempt, and his face was as pale as death. "I saw you- I thought you'd-" he stopped, breathing short, quick breaths on his hands and knees.

Anger and adrenaline took over Scarlett's fear.

"You thought I'd _what,_ Rhett? Drowned myself in the goddamned bathtub?" She wiped her matted hair away from her eyes.

Rhett's contorted face turned stormy, and he pushed himself up off his hands, anger replacing concern. "Forgive me for caring enough to-" he began hotly, but Scarlett's shrill laugh interrupted him.

"Care? Why Rhett Butler, how sweet of you! My darling husband comes home after two years away to prove he cares by wrenching me out of my bath!" She threw up her hands and looked around, 

as if to elicit sympathy from an imaginary audience. He opened his mouth to retort something, anything, when the fire in her eyes changed, and she stared up at him with such longing Rhett had to look away.

"You're partly right, Rhett. I can't live without you. Sometimes I do think dying is better than being alone." Abruptly, tears sparkled at her eyes. She reached for his pants leg but he sidestepped her.

"They told me you'd gone mad," he said to her, watching her curiously. Scarlett, still on her knees and soaked, crossed her arms over her chest.

"Do I look crazed to you?"

He said nothing, but glanced pointedly at the man's white dress shirt she wore, which clung to her body and fell over her knees and down past her hands. She glanced down at herself and scowled. She'd forgotten she had it on when she'd gotten into the tub.

"That water was freezing," said Rhett, breaking the silence. "Take that off and warm yourself up. I'll be back." He swiveled around and out of the room. Scarlett scrambled to pull herself up, and jogged behind him, tugging on his arm.

"Wait, Rhett! Where are you going? Don't leave me!" He turned to her and smirked, not entirely unkindly.

"Don't worry, my pet. I'm only going to get changed." Scarlett gasped.

"Not- not in your room?"

"Yes, in my room. Where do you expect me to go?" Scarlett was panicked. She trailed him out into the hallway.

"You musn't go in there, Rhett. I've- I've been remodeling it! Take your things to the guest room!" She ducked under his arm and pushed in front of him, barring him from the door.

"Remodeling, eh?" He chuckled. "Well, mind if I take a look?"

"No!" She threw her arms out to stop him. "I mean- yes, I do mind. It's a surprise."

Rhett stiffened suddenly, and his eyes clouded over. "What is it you're trying so desperately to hide, Scarlett? You are not a good liar, my dear. What is it?" She did not answer him, and her eyes would not meet his own.

"Have you got a man in there, darling? Is dear Mr. Wilkes lounging in my bed at this very moment? No, I'm not surprised at you. I expected it, rather. Let me by." She did so, shrugging aside as he opened the heavy wood door. What would Rhett think of her now?

Scarlett stood behind him as their eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. She covered her eyes. She could not bear to look at his face.

-

She heard his sudden intake of breath, and the scuff of his shoes as he moved about the room.

"Scarlett," he said finally, and she reluctantly pulled her hands from her face. He stood in the middle of the room, holding the ashtray in front of him. "Have you been smoking my cigars?" There was a note of incredulousness in his voice.

"Burning them," answered Scarlett. Her voice cracked. "So I could smell like you."

"And my clothing?" he asked, setting the ashtray on the table and moving to the closet, where pants and shirts and ties were thrown about and in piles on the floor.

"I do wear those," confessed Scarlett, gesturing to herself. Then she shivered. Her soaked, freezing shirt- rather, Rhett's soaked, freezing shirt- was making her teeth chatter. Rhett reacted immediately, grimacing before picking up his own bathrobe from the foot of the unkempt bed.

"Take that off," he ordered her, and she did as she was told, pulling it over her head and letting it fall with a thud in a wet heap on the floor. He looked away from her and handed her the robe, which she wrapped around herself, tying it securely around her little waist. She yawned.

"Rhett," she said, climbing into his bed. It was no use to try and hide it anymore. She breathed into the pillow. The night before she'd dowsed the sheets with his cologne.

And now he was here, in the flesh.

"Hmm?" his voice sounded so faraway, although he was only standing at the foot of the bed.

"Would you lie here with me?"

"No," said Rhett decidedly. "I'll tuck you in." He was at the side of the bed, and she snuggled into the blankets as he tucked them around her. He smelled differently, now that he had been away.

Scarlett preferred the old scent.

--For more information on the continuation and inspiration for this story, as well as my other stories, please visit my profile page--


	2. Chapter 2

The first time he returned to Atlanta he vowed to be his last. He strode up the steps to the Peachtree street house, clutching the papers that would rid Scarlett from his life. He was oddly anxious, and Rhett contributed it to the anticipation of his liberation rather than the thought of his actually leaving Scarlett O'Hara.

The door opened in front of him as if on its own accord, as if it knew he was returning. Pork must have been staring out the window, Rhett reasoned, and opened the door out of habit. The old servant was nowhere in sight now, and Rhett shrugged off his coat unaided and tossed it onto the side table. Of course, the house servants would have an alliance with Scarlett. Most of them had been with her since she was just a child. Rhett hoped Mammy wasn't around.

"Pork, who's there?" It was Scarlett's voice, and Rhett poised himself to bow when she came around the corner of the landing.

"Oh," she said when she saw him. "Rhett."

She looked just the same as when he had left her. Still head to toe in mourning, her hair pulled up into a loose chignon.

"Still in mourning for Miss Melly? I can't believe it," he said mildly, removing his hat and ambling towards the stairs. "How long has it been?" He knew how long it had been. He wanted to see the old Scarlett, the Scarlett who puffed up with anger and spat out whatever came to mind.

"I should be in mourning forever for sweet Melly," Scarlett cried hotly. "How dare you assume that I don't care! Besides," she said, her voice changing as he neared her, "I'm not only mourning for Melanie."

He was beside her now, and he saw her white fingers gripping tightly to the stairwell, noticed the frown lines around her mouth. She looked up at him with her burning green eyes, and Rhett's heart beat faster. He looked away.

"Nothing's changed, Scarlett."

"What's that?" she asked him, pointing at the papers he still held in his hands. Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm glad you asked, my dear." He held them out to her, but she did not take them.

"No," she said, and she tucked her hands under her armpits. "I already told you, I won't give you a divorce."

"Scarlett," he began, speaking to her like a child, "It'll do us both good to be rid of each other."

"But I don't want to be rid of you," she cried. "Rhett, I love you!" That desperate look was back on her face- the look she had given him when he'd left her that night at Rough and Ready. The same look she'd come to him with at the jail. He had failed her then and he would fail her now.

Anger at himself and at her took over him, and he thrust the papers into her arms, forcing her to take them.

"You will sign," he growled. "You will sign, if I have to break your wrist to do it." He wanted to slap her. He clenched his fists.

"No," she said again, and before he could stop her she turned and in one swift movement tossed the papers over the balcony. Together they watched as the papers floated silently down to rest on the floor and staircase.

"How pretty," Scarlett mused, and Rhett stared at her, incredulous.

"You've already broken my heart," he said to her, "Won't you give me my freedom?"

"I'm sorry," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Rhett was defeated. He turned and trotted down the stairs, picking up his coat and hat. As he opened the door, he turned back to look at her unmoving form at the top of the stairs.

"I wish you misery," he said. And for a moment, he meant it.

--

He had only been in Charleston for three months when the first letter from Atlanta arrived. Scarlett's Aunt Pitty, extremely distraught, wrote to Rhett to inform him that his wife was not seeing visitors. "Only the servants go in and out, Captain Butler! We hear she hasn't been eating! I called on her unexpectedly the other day and she screamed at me to get out!" Then came Mrs. Mead's letter and Mrs. Merriweather's letter, and even Belle, who wrote to him about the gossip she'd heard at the saloon. Finally, after two years, Ashley Wilkes's letter arrived:

"I was reluctant to write you, considering our past, Captain Butler. But it's been too long, and Scarlett is still not herself. You and I both know that there is not a braver woman in the South. But Captain Butler, she roams the gardens absently, she lets no one see her. She cries for days at a time. I've tried all I can, and you will be pleased to know that my presence does nothing for her. You must go to her. "

"When will you leave me be, Scarlett O'Hara?"

Grudgingly, Rhett found himself back in Atlanta.

**I found Rhett quite difficult to write. I hope it turned out alright.**

**For more information on the continuation and inspiration for this story, as well as my other stories, please visit my profile page. **


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter went in a completely different direction than I had previously planned. Blame my fingers for typing it. **

Pittypat Hamilton's jowls trembled as she hurried from the carriage where old Uncle Peter waited. She had heard through the grapevine, naturally, that Rhett Butler had left town and had come to see how Scarlett was doing (but secretly wished to see if the rumors were true).

The servant who answered the door stared, wide eyed, at the daunting task of having to rouse Scarlett Butler for a caller.

"You sho you want to see her?" the servant inquired, wringing her hands.

"Of course I want to see her," said Pitty, indignant and fluttery. "Do you suppose I would drive all this way only to be turned away?" The servant shrugged and motioned for Pitty to wait in the parlor.

"Juss sayin' I warned you," said the servant under her breath. Pitty feigned deafness. As the servant girl traipsed as slowly as possible up the long staircase, Pittypat opened her fan and cooled her face. For such a dark home it was stifling. Pitty sniffed the musty air, and suspected the windows had not been opened in some time.

The minutes ticked by, and Pitty grew more and more flustered with every passing second. Perhaps, she thought, satisfying her curiosity was not worth the anxious waiting.

"Oh dear," Pittypat sighed to herself, utterly distraught.

Finally, finally (any longer and surely she would have died from waiting) she could hear the thumping of Scarlett's feet as she descended the stairs. Pitty stood as Scarlett rounded the corner, and gasped.

Scarlett wore the same mourning gown she had worn at Melanie's funeral months ago. It looked as though it had not been washed or pressed since then. The basque, which was meant to be buttoned up to the neck, was spread wide just above her bosom, showcasing Scarlett's hollowed collarbones. And her hair! It was not pulled up in a polite chignon as was customary to greet callers. Instead it flowed down her back, a ridiculous mass of black curls.

"Oh," said Pitty, "Oh! I feel faint!" Scarlett scowled and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the door jar.

"I'm surprised at you, Pittypat Hamilton! Having the nerve to come over and see me, even as I am not received."

"Well, dear, you're still family! I've been wanting to come by and see how you've been since Melanie-"

"Don't speak to me about Melly," Scarlett snapped, and Pitty trembled. "And I doubt you came over simply to see how I've been doing."

"Scarlett!" Pitty cried, outraged mostly because Scarlett was aware of her true intentions. "Are you insinuating that I've come by because of the gossip?"

"Yes," said Scarlett solidly. "And I don't appreciate being bothered to get dressed for no reason." Pitty stood, embarrassed and indignant, to her full height.

"You have some nerve, Scarlett Butler, speaking to me this way! Ooh! Just wait until your husband hears how you've treated me today!" Scarlett reared her head back as if she'd been slapped.

"My husband!" she cried, uncrossing her arms to clench her fists at her sides. "My husband wishes I were dead!" For a long moment the two women stared at each other, Scarlett trembling with rage and Pitty trembling with fright.

"Get out of my house, Pittypat Hamilton, and don't come back." Scarlett's angry glare propelled Pitty out of the expansive house. The heavy wooden door was slammed the moment her tiny feet hit the pavement of the walkway. Pitty's hand shook as she searched the folds of her skirts for her smelling salts.

"Take me to the post office, Uncle Peter," sniffed Pitty when she arrived at the carriage. "I've got to write Captain Butler."

_--_

Ashley found her in the garden, crouched in front of the rose bushes. She stood when she heard his footsteps and looked at him with haunted, piercing eyes. He noted how pretty she looked, dressed in men's clothes and was immediately ashamed at the thought. Rhett Butler's pants were rolled up to fit her and her bare white feet poked out from under the heavy cotton. The pants were belted high on her waist and the white dress-shirt, streaked with dirt, was tucked gracelessly in the high-waist slacks.

"Ashley," she said distractedly, wiping her dirty hands on her shirt and pushing her hair away from her sweaty forehead. "I was just thinking about you."

"Darling," said Ashley, taking her hand. "Have you slept at all lately?" She looked at him as if he were the crazy one and pulled her hand from his grasp.

"I haven't had time to sleep, Ashley! I've been busy picking out the flowers for Melly's grave!"

"Oh, Scarlett," sighed Ashley. "That's nothing to spend your time worrying about. "

"What do you think," Scarlett mused, appearing not to have heard him, "Are roses too overdone? The pansies are beautiful this season." She turned and shaded her eyes, looking out into the rest of the garden.

"Melly will love any flower you choose," said Ashley softly. Then he repeated, "You mustn't worry about silly things like flowers."

"You don't understand, Ashley," she cried, turning on him. "I've got to worry about these stupid flowers! If I don't, then I'll think about everything else!" Without warning she began to sob. Startled, Ashley reached for her, and she allowed him to hold her as she cried. She stifled incoherent words into his shoulder, words about Rhett and Bonnie and Melly.

"Go ahead and worry about the flowers, Scarlett," he murmured into her hair. "Go right ahead."

**I'm looking for someone to help me creatively with a story chapter I am working on. If you know my writing style and enjoy my stories, I'd love for your help! **

**For more information on the continuation and inspiration for this story, as well as my other stories, please visit my profile page. **


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